The real reason I am here
As I write this, I'm questioning my skills as a writer. What was I thinking when I created my Substack account two days ago? I’m a fashion redesigner and creativity mentor, not a writer.
But hey, I love a good challenge, so I’m diving in and learning as I go. Bear with me, will you?
I’m sitting behind my computer, drafting my first Substack entry. I’m not even sure if I’ll publish it, but I need a space to let my thoughts and emotions flow.
Summer vacation has just started, and with my kids at summer camp, I have the entire week to myself. For three whole days, I worked about eleven hours a day on my new business venture. My only team member, my virtual assistant, and I had daily check-ins. I also have a bookkeeper who I speak with every couple of months and an accountability partner—does that count as a team member?
I was dedicated, intentional, and committed to giving my all for these three days of intense productivity. And I did! Yay!
To celebrate this major accomplishment, I treated myself to a two-hour movie night. I made spaghetti with shrimp and poured a glass of rosé.
I watched “Love Again,” a perfect romantic film for a Thursday night. The story is about a woman who loses her boyfriend in a car accident and is still grieving two years later. Her loved ones want her to move on, and then she meets a charming but tactless guy. I won’t spoil the ending, but the film brought me to tears.
It wasn’t just about the decent acting or the fact that Celine Dion, on of my favorite singers of all times, was in the movie (is she still performing, by the way?). What struck me was the profound emptiness I felt when the film ended and Celine sang the movie's theme song.
As I looked around my recently redesigned cozy living room, I realized how much I love it. I felt so happy and fulfilled. Yet, the moment I felt that high, I was quickly brought down by the thought of not having anyone to share this with.
Years ago, I struggled deeply. I cried, pushed myself forward, and got up even when I wanted to stay in bed. Every day, I challenged myself to be the best version of myself for my children and me. I achieved 70 consecutive days of morning walks, transitioned from a low-paying job to a well-paying one in six months, and fully paid for our upcoming summer vacation to Aruba without financial help.
Yet, despite all this, I feel alone, with no special one to share this amazing life with...
So, back to my cozy living room. I was feeling sad, disappointed, and blue. I listened to the movie’s song, “Love Again,” once more. Standing there, slowly spinning in circles, I wondered what the universe was trying to tell me at this very moment.
And then, I listened.
“This is your time to move on. You are ready for new love.”
“Am I?” I asked.
“Yes.”
Then the song’s final lyrics came through my Samsung mobile:
“Cause you don’t have to move a mountain, just keep moving. Every move is a new emotion. And you don’t have to find the answers, just keep trying. The sun will rise again, storms subside again. This is not the end. And you will love again.”
I don’t know why I’m writing this at 10 PM. Maybe this letter is one of many love letters I’ll write to myself and never publish. Or maybe it’s the first and only one. Or neither. I really don’t know.
What I do know is:
Something made me clear my schedule this week and block out time to work on my business relentlessly.
Something made me sign up and set up a Substack account, something I hadn’t heard of until three weeks ago.
Something made me watch this movie tonight out of thousands of options.
And…
Something brought me here to write my first letter of love, hope, and creativity. 😊
And that's the way it is…
I hope you got the message.
I know I did.
Talk to you soon!
Bye bye!
